


Voyager's Pub

by CheyF



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Almost historically accurate?, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Bars and Pubs, F/M, Gen, Messing with familial ties, San Francisco, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-12 16:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11741022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyF/pseuds/CheyF
Summary: Something that's been swishing around in my head between bigger works. Another A/U (cause that seems to be the order of the year for me). 1980's San Francisco finds Kate, Chakotay meeting when he needs to make some money. He get's wrapped up in drama that Quincy, Kate's annoying cousin left when he disappeared weeks ago. Rated for violence, some language.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been playing with this story for a little while in my head and I'm finally getting it down! It's another A/U, as I'm really feeling those lately. I'm tapping along at it at a good pace though, so I wanted to start posting it. The whole story is relatively planned, so nothing should stop me from finishing it in a timely fashion. It won't be super long, nor really short.

He wasn’t a light sleeper, so he knew something must have woken him up. He couldn’t have been sleeping for more than a couple of hours. The back room of the pub was still pitch black in the night. He’d closed the door to the office tonight because Kate planned on leaving to run errands early in the morning and she told him she didn’t want to wake him when she came down. 

The noise hadn’t been the creaking of the floor above him or the stars, the underside of which cut into the wall right next to his cot. 

There it was again, the breaking of wood. 

Was someone breaking into the building? 

Quietly, Chakotay swung his feet out of bed to land silently on the floor. 

Sidestepping the noisy parts of the floor, he slid open the desk drawer and felt for the knife he knew Kate kept nestled between the stapler and the scratch paper. She didn’t like guns, but she kept one behind the bar. In the office though, she kept the knife under the guise of a handy letter opener, but she felt just a little safer with it at hand. 

Unsheathing the blade, he inched to the office door, holding his breath as he listened to the people now inside, walking towards the office. They never came to his door, but carefully started to pick their way up the back staircase, towards the small studio on the second floor.

Maybe it was Kathryn and a friend. Maybe she’d changed her mind and gone out after he shut in for the night. He breathed, relieved, and walked back to the desk to return the knife. 

Sometimes he freaked out about the smallest things, and this was no exception. His mind always focused on the worst possible circumstances if even the smallest thing seemed out of place.

Just as he was shaking his head to himself, pushing the drawer closed, he heard a crash above him, followed by a shout. A man bellowed and Kathryn screamed. Feet plodded across the floor so hard above him, that the lights in the office rattled with the vibrations.

Furniture scrapped and tumbled through the apartment, shrieks and yells rising in volume.

Chakotay, worried that someone was taking advantage of his boss, hurried up the stairs, the knife left in the desk.

The door to the little apartment swung ajar. Inside, a scuffle between three people blurred across the living space. One of them was in a pair of light grey knit pants and a t-shirt, almost reflective in the street light coming through the windows, pinpointing her in the shroud of the shadowed room. The other two were nearly indistinguishable, dressed in black from head to toe, masks over their faces, teeth showing white as they grunted, frustrated that their charge wasn’t succumbing easily.

Kathryn fought fiercely. 

He heard her panting in the darkness as he froze just inside the doorway. 

She pushed one of the men back and he lost his balance over the low coffee table, tumbling. She spun around as the other barreled toward her, arm held high. She ducked out of the way, but his arm came down hard on the back of her neck as he flipped around.

What was happening?

She stumbled to the floor, hands going up to protect her head. Rolling, she kicked at the man and used the bed to crawl to her feet.

After only a moment of hesitation, he ran towards the bank of windows where the fight continued.

“Kate!” He grabbed one of the men’s arms and pulled, knocking the stranger off balance again as he lunged for her. Chakotay swung around and landed a punch on the downed assailant’s throat. Chakotay heard a wheeze as the man curled into himself. 

“Get out of here!” She shouted, the sound turning into a huff of pain as other man used her distraction to drive her into the wall, knocking the breath from her.

He looked back at her briefly, seeing the man before her take her by the throat, lifting her from the ground until her legs dangled, drawing his fist back.

He didn’t have a chance to go help her. A loud pop echoed in his ears and he felt a blooming pain through his arm. He twisted his head to look at the man at his feet, gun in steady hand, barrel dark and hollow.

He looked back to Kathryn, seeing her slumped, unconscious on the ground. A fist came up to meet his jaw, knocking him out cold to sprawl across the rough floor, blood pooling from the hole in his shoulder. 

The man who’d tackled Kathryn picked her up and dropped her heavily onto the bed. One of the masked attackers held her hands together while the other took a flattened roll of duct tape from his pocket to secure her wrists. They repeated the process with her feet after removing her socks. Finally, they tore two foot-long pieces from the roll, securing one strip over her bleeding mouth and the other across her eyes. 

Throwing her over a shoulder in a fireman’s carry, the taller of the two men led the way out of the room, leaving through the front door and throwing their unwilling passenger into the trunk of their car.

oOoOo

The help wanted sign had been in the window for eight days. Ten long days ago that bastard had been gone to wherever he went when he felt like disappearing and leaving her here to take care of his responsibilities. Quincy was an awful human being and an even worse boss. Hell, he made a despicable cousin, and family was supposed to mean something! 

Her grandfather had always stressed the importance of their ties to their Irish heritage and the pride they had as a family in this town, where he’d founded so much of this very neighborhood. 

She should have left Q to ruin himself and the bar, but she cared for this shithole, even if she thought it should have been hers and it would never be as good as she could make it.

God but she wished his whiney ass would just disappear for good some day and get out of her hair so she could run this place how she really wanted to. He may be her cousin, but she felt no warmth towards him and his bad choices and she didn’t see what her grandfather saw in him when he decided to leave him the bar. Men. She was sick of men. 

The clock in the office chimed ten times, interrupting her angry thoughts. Kathryn carried the container of silverware from the table to the bin behind the bar and grabbed the keys for the front door. 

Flipping the dead-bolts and unlocking the built-in locks with each of their respective keys, she pushed the door out and propped it with the green brick near the frame. 

A man sat a few feet from the door, resting against the wall under her windows. His dark hair was close-clipped, and she could see the bottom of an intricate anchor tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his white t-shirt on one side. He dozed, his arm resting protectively across the drab sea bag across his lap, tanned skin starting to glimmer with sweat in the early morning warmth.

“You can’t sit out here. Either come in, or go down the street to the mission, sailor.” She stood there in front of him, hands on hips, frowning down as he opened his eyes.

“I’d like to come in. Actually, I wanted to inquire about the help wanted sign. Do you still need someone?” He pushed the bag from his lap and stood, holding out his hand to her.   
“I’m Chakotay Mendez.”

Hesitantly, she accepted the proffered hand. “I’m Kate. I’m the manager. You’re in luck, I do still need help. Let’s talk.” She walked into the bar, clicking the neon “Open” sign to “on”.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, I can’t pay you much…” Kate began, slipping behind the bar to fill two mugs of coffee and turn down the music on the stereo.

Chakotay propped his bag against the bar and perched on the first stool, looking at the woman. 

She walked behind the bar with an authority of a lifetime of familiarity, but she was only in her early twenties. Her body moved with intent and power though, and she dressed conservatively, but attractively, the dark colors complimenting her and reinforcing that she didn’t want to deal with nonsense. He supposed it was kind of necessary if she was the only one here most of the time. 

“But, I can give you a place to stay in back and a meal or two a day. You’ll keep any tips, and I’ll give you cash end of each night.” She stood across from him, leaning against the bin of ice. 

She put an awful lot of trust in him.

“That’s perfect actually.” He smiled at her, happy that she was willing to give him a chance. Honestly, he hadn’t checked many places for work, but then again, he was kind of flying by the seat of his pants.

“When we’re open you’ll work in back for now, or help me out here on the weekend. If you want more cash, you can help me with some maintenance in the mornings. We’re closed on Mondays.” She pushed a coffee towards him.

“When do I start?” He asked her hopefully, just ready to move on and have a new beginning. This was as good a place as any. There wasn’t anything elsewhere anymore. 

“It really depends. Did they kick you out or did you leave on your own?” She gestured to his bag.

“I’ve been in eight years, I’m ready to try something else.” It’s all he’d ever known. He’d jumped in as soon as he was of age, and he didn’t look back. He’d been desperate to get away from everything at home. Now all he wanted was to find something else. Something that would let him breathe. Something new.

“Are you from here?” She gestured into the air, finger making circles, referring to the general area, rather than the bar.

“No.” He wasn’t going to go back to Arizona

“Why are you staying?” Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted incrementally to the side.

“A girl…” Wasn’t it always that way? Jesseka was the latest in a long line of mistakes.

“Why weren’t you on her doorstep this morning instead of mine?” One of her hands propped her against the bar, the other finding its way back to her hip.

“A girl that left me, so I have no reason to go back.” His family was gone, his friends all scattered to the wind. Most of them had gone to college anyways, so now they were white-  
picket-fencing it, they didn’t have time for people like him. 

His girlfriend…his ex-girlfriend, didn’t have time for him either. All of her time found its way into some trailer-trash pants and panties. Eventually, she came clean before he could even hug her when he got off the ship. He’d like to think she was at least a little classy- she didn’t do it over the phone or via mail, like some of his fellows had received. 

“You ever get in trouble?” She finished her coffee and went for a refill.

“Nothing more than making stupid decisions in high school.” Tawdry fumblings with older women when he was in school. Breaking barracks rules. A lot. Breaking fraternization rules, but never getting caught. The occasional gambling bout in less than reputable establishments over-seas. Nothing she should worry about.

“Start today if you want. But know that anything valuable is stored away, my flat upstairs is locked, and I won’t put up with any drama or funny business.” She came around to him and offered a handshake.

He took her hand in his, surprised at the aggressive grip from the woman.

“Come with me.” She led him towards the office, where he could stow his bag. 

“My grandfather often slept here when his wife deemed he shouldn’t come home. I have to admit, having a cot in the office isn’t all that bad, if a little strange. It’s a good thing for you though.” She gathered her long, honey-colored hair into a tight pony tail as she walked, the action emphasizing the sway of her hips as her shirt tightened across her back and shoulders.

The office was quite spacious, spanning most of the back of the bar, with a large desk and chair, a storage area and book shelves, and a small partitioned area with a small sleeping cot built into the wall. 

“I know it isn’t a lot of privacy, but it’ll get you on your feet in no time.” She opened a free-standing cupboard and pulled out a stack of faded, but clean linens, and moved to the bed. 

Before the closet doors closed, he caught a glimpse of an old photo taped to the inside of one of the doors of a girl, Kate when she was maybe thirteen, with an old man, and man in his forties who resembled her enough to be her father, who was dressed in his whites, a ship in the background.

So, she had a soft spot for sailors for a reason.

“You can take a bit of time to settle in. The first customers usually start coming around soon, but no one really comes for lunch until eleven.” Kate left him in the office then, going back to the front to finish getting everything ready for the day. 

oOoOo

When he came out of the office, he found Kate filling the sinks in the back and turning on the small grill. 

She rinsed her hands in the sink and fished out an off-white binder from above the small freezer.

“The menu is in here. Everything is pretty self-explanatory…” She leaned to look out into the bar when she heard customers come in.

“Just let me know if you have any questions.” She smiled then left him to find his way around his new work space. 

From the back, he could hear the conversation as two men walked to meet Kate. They argued light-heartedly about the fitness of the candidates in the upcoming election.

She welcomed the customers and ushered them to a table in a far corner. Chakotay could hear her voice, though it had lowered and he couldn’t tell what she was saying as the chimed in with the two men. They seemed like regulars, but then again, maybe she was just exceptionally outgoing and treated all of the customers this way. 

He flipped through the menu, paying special attention to the feminine scrawl, notating various recipes for particular items. 

“Katie? Got a cook yet? I don’t know if I can take another batch of burnt…” The voice merrily teased her, louder now.

“Yes, Owen. You and Tom are safe again!” She laughed, the sound coming closer as she stepped behind the bar to get drinks for the men. 

When she returned to the table, their easy chatter continued. Chakotay looked out into the bar, seeing a greying man and his fair-haired counterpart in a booth, Kate sat on a chair nearby, legs crossed as she leaned back, comfortably interacting.

He was looking into the pantry and cooler when she came into the kitchen a while later. 

“If you’re ready to get started, I have an order for you. Are you familiar enough with everything? She handed him a slip of paper with the order.

“I should be fine. I can cook a burger and fries.” He acknowledged, and set to work.

Before the pair of men left, Kate introduced Chakotay to them. They owned and ran the auto part store that shared the north wall with the pub and had good taste in vodka.

 

Steadily, business picked up. Small groups came for lunch or on break. A lot of the construction crowd came in the early afternoon after leaving the site, insisting that the cold sandwiches here were the best in town. Indeed, even though Kate didn’t seem to do well with cooking, the sandwiches she made each morning and stored in the kitchen cooler were phenomenal. He’d had one during a lull when she’d sent him to get fresh air and take a break. 

Chakotay noticed Kate never stopped throughout the day though, finding something to occupy her time, even when all of her chairs were empty. He set out a basket of fries for her on the end of the counter when he realized she hadn’t eaten and dinner time had gone and went. He was happy to see her pick at the food each time she walked past it and she got this little smile whenever she passed the kitchen entrance and caught his eye. 

Around ten that evening, most of the bar had cleared out. He didn’t expect it would be very busy for the rest of the night, especially on a Tuesday. 

He started cleaning the kitchen, scraping the grill until it shone through silvery again and wiping every surface he could reach. He went out front after gathering his trash to grab whatever she had since he was going out anyway. 

“Thank you Chakotay. You’ve been a godsend.” She poured him a drink for his trouble, whiskey that she sloshed into another glass for herself as well, toasting him before he disappeared, heading for the dumpster. 

Before he came back inside, he took a moment to breath in the salty night air, cool against his greasy skin. When he returned, the volume of the radio had been turned down again, and he heard the front door drag shut behind the footsteps of a new group of customers. 

“Kathryn, dear, how are you tonight?” The gravelly voice felt slimy in his ears.

“Another wonderful night, precious?” Another snake-like timbre made his toes curl.

“Another day in paradise gentlemen. I’m out of your wine tonight, but I have a new red that I picked up this morning in back if you’d like to try it.”

“You just like to be adventurous and push us to try new things, don’t you, sweetheart.” Another voice that made him cringe. 

Gazing into the bar, he saw that one of the slime balls had his hand on her arm, sliding up towards her shoulder.

“I’m just trying to broaden your horizons, Cardie. You can’t just limit yourself to one thing, otherwise, how would you know what you really like. Tastes change.” She stepped to the side, angling towards the bar. 

“Indeed they do.” Cardie leered at her as she walked away to get the wine. Chakotay hadn’t known Kate that long at all, and he felt a pang of annoyance on her behalf, his lip twitching disgustedly at the interaction that obviously made her uncomfortable. The men were all in their fifties or sixties, dressed to the nines in suits, with expensive watches and slick hair. 

Nothing good came from men who like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have as much fun with the names as I'm having. :) Also, I apologize if there are any huge errors, I don't have a beta, and I'm excited about posting the story as I finish the chapters! <3
> 
> CheyF


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying the story so far!

Kate regained consciousness, trussed in the trunk of a car that drove swiftly along uneven pavement on an incline. Every bump in the road left her head aching as her temple rebounded off the rough carpeting beneath her. 

Shifting along so her hands weren’t wedged against one of the sides of the trunk, she pulled her wrists apart, trying to work the tape loose. The thick layers bit into her flesh, the adhesive residue burning as it contacted the irritated skin and pulled at the fine hairs on her arms. As she moved, her bruised abdomen twinged angrily.

Abruptly, the car screeched to a stop, compressing Kate against the rigid inside wall, trapping her hands and knocking the breath from her.

She felt the whoosh of air as the trunk was wrested open under heavy hands. 

The steps of the men echoed against smooth concrete and metal walls, the location something large and open, but she couldn’t hear anything from outside, so she couldn’t figure out where she might be. She didn’t even know how long she’d been out. Her situation was getting increasingly hopeless.

_Shit! Chakotay!_

She vaguely remembered seeing him, hearing his voice before she lost consciousness. She hoped he was alright.

Her train of thought was clipped short when she was pulled unceremoniously from her little dark hole, and heaved over someone’s shoulder. The men didn’t talk. She could barely hear them breathing. The only sensory input past her physical discomfort was three sets of footsteps reverberating back to her as they started going up…or down a set of stairs. 

The pajamas she’d put on before bed were for the mildly warm late spring weather and didn’t protect her from the increasing cool and damp of her surroundings. Metal clanked as a latch was released and a door slid on well-oiled casters. After a few steps, she heard the door close again and the heavy latch fall into place again. 

Another thick, solid door, and more stairs. 

Her stomach growled. Kate regretted not eating the sandwich Chakotay had left for her on the kitchen counter before retiring for the night. She hadn’t been hungry. She’d been too stressed, and she’d barely even been able to get to sleep, and when she did, she woke up to men in ski masks with energetic fists.

Someone grabbed her shoulders and pulled her backwards and down into a chair. The wood of the seat creaked with the force of her arrival. 

Roughly, someone sawed a knife into the tape around her wrists, freeing them, only to pull them around and secure them to the narrow arms of the chair. 

As soon as she leaned back, someone wrapped a stiff belt around her midsection and wrenched it tight, tying it off in behind her. 

Next, her feet were separated and re-taped to the stocky, roughly hewn legs of her chair.

Kate turned her head to the left and right, straining to hear anything, smell anything, feel anything that might tell her where she was or what was happening. 

At least two men left the room, locking the door behind them, but she didn’t know if anyone had stayed, or if someone had been in the room before she got here.

She leaned back and forth a couple times to find a more comfortable position, noting that the back of the chair was missing most of its slats.

Unmoving, and in the quiet dark of her surroundings, Kate started to doze, exhausted despite the worry she faced about her situation. 

When her head began to bob, her chin dropping closer to her chest, she jerked herself awake, only to repeat the process. 

Was that breathing?

Was it her, or…?

Suddenly, the thick band of tape was ripped from her mouth, a stream of blood starting anew at the tender gash along her cheek.

“What do you want?” She asked, her voice a whisper.

“Why have you taken me? I don’t have anything of value or know anyone who does.” She spoke louder, turning her head towards the swish of clothing to her right.

“Katie, sweetheart, we just want you.” One of Cardie’s lackeys…was it Rom? Something stupid like that...his voice sent chills down her back.

“If you take me back home and leave me be, we can forget anything even happened.” She suggested to him hopefully.

In response, Rom found a corner of the tape across her eyes and lifted, slowly releasing her from that bond. Her hair tore from the follicles, and her eyelids felt like they detached  
from her skull, but really, it was the least of her problems. 

Directly in front of her, in a metal folding chair, sat Cardie himself. 

“Good morning Kathryn. My men have been perfect gentlemen during you trip here I hope.” He smiled and took a drink from the crystal tumbler in his hand.

Kate only glared at him.

“Darling, those smoldering glares won’t get you anywhere here.” Another sip. “Do you know why I’ve invited you hear today?”

“Invited? Really? You’re going to be play games?” She sneered as she spoke.

“No games then.” He sighed. “I like you Kathryn. Your grandfather would be proud of you. Hell, I’m proud of you. I’ve watched you grow up since you were a baby into…” He made a show of looking her over “a beautiful woman, and you’re smart too. Do you know where your dear Quincy is?”

“Not a clue,” she bit out, “and I couldn’t care less either. He’s worthless.”

“I agree. That’s why he ran off, once he knew we wanted to get out hands on your grandfather’s bar.” Cardie curled his lip in disgust.

“Your grandfather was one of the last good men in this town. Kept the neighborhood on the straight and narrow, but when he died, rest in peace, he left some business  
unfinished.” He finished off the amber liquid in his glass and stood.

“And your cousin confessed he’d signed that business into your name before he left last month.” He watched her closely to see if she reacted to the news. 

“What could you possibly want with the pub? It’s just this side of condemned and we barely make enough money to stay open.” She leaned back the closer he got to her.

“Why did you stay around with the despicable excuse for a human when he took over the operations?”

“As sorry of a human as he is, he’s family, more than that, the pub is important to me. It’s the last piece of my family, the ones I liked, out there. It’s my home.”

“He put you in quite a…quandary.” He knocked on the inside of the door and it opened to let in two more of his men.

“How’s that?” She was uncomfortable now, the inkling of where this was leading sending chills of fear into the depths of her gut. Her face remained neutral, she didn’t want them  
to know how horrified she felt.

“You’re the last thing between me and what I want.” 

Rom closed the door behind Cardie as he walked out, handing the empty liquor glass to someone she couldn’t see.

“Boss needs to know where the deed is.” Rom proclaimed. The nameless grunts approached her.

“I didn’t even know the pub was mine, why would I know where it is?” She looked from one man to the other, following the fatter one as he circled behind her.

He calmly rested his hands on the corners of the chair by Kate’s shoulder and braced his knee against her back. She thought it odd until #2, the one with the creepy mustache, pulled a baton-like weapon from his waistband and attacked her, the strength forcing the chair back. She would have tipped backwards had #1 not been there holding her down. 

The heavy club fell against her arms, shoulders and ribs, merciless and unrelenting. 

Crack.

Crack.

Thump.

Fire licked through her torso, the gravelly feeling in her chest sudden and unforgiving as bone scraped and gouged. 

He hit her hard enough to leave his mark, to leave her desperate and whimpering, but not enough to permanently mar her or kill her. 

Her head washed around in circles, dizzy, unfocused. She didn’t know if the grunts came from her, her assailant, or the man taking the secondary blows as her body jerked backwards. 

She tried to keep quiet, but tears filled her eyes and she gasped out when a particularly spectacular swing impacted her left shoulder. Her vision danced with stars, nausea answering the sharp pain. 

As her chin dropped to her chest, her panting loud in the bare room, #1 grabbed her hair and forced her to look up at his partner in time to take a glancing blow to the temple that hadn’t quite stopped bleeding anyways.

“We’ll give you some time to think your answer over, darling.” Rom smiled at her and left with the other men, turning out the lights.


	4. Chapter 4

Within a week, Chakotay and Kate had formed a routine of sorts. 

In the morning, he often woke to the sounds of Kate moving about in the bar, her footsteps soft as she cleaned windows, prepped the cold foods, or as she worked on filling out her order forms and hummed, just slightly out of tune and so softly, that it was nearly lost to the street traffic. 

He usually gave her time to settle into the day with her first cup of coffee before he emerged. 

The first few days, he’d woken very early, still on his military schedule. He discovered that she was quite cross if he was his usual happy self before she was functional. She dressed in worn-out clothes and sleepily navigated the pub doing chores from about six to eight in the morning. By then, the caffeine would be coursing through her system, and she’d go back upstairs to change and make herself more presentable for the day. 

Before nine, she’d be back downstairs to get any deliveries (if it was Wednesday or Saturday) or enjoy some moments to herself reading the paper or her latest novel. She had a penchant for the classics, the thick volumes stashed throughout the building. 

Right before they opened, she’d spend ten or fifteen minutes fussing over small tasks to prepare for the day.

 

Today was a humming day. Chakotay smiled as he listened to the warm timbre while he enjoyed just a few more minutes before he had to get up. 

 

He didn’t think he’d settle in this well or this fast. The controlled chaos that was Kate suited him. There was a goodness about her, unlike many of the women he’d spent time around lately. But, she was smart as a whip, and she could handle herself.

He liked spending the days at the bar, and exploring their neighborhood during his time off. He actually got off somewhat early most nights, so he could go out or sift through one of Kate’s books. Chakotay stayed around the pub if Cardie and his men came. He worried for his boss around such slugs, but she sent him off for the night shortly after they came. 

The group of men, sometimes just the original three, others up to eight men, would be preceded by the stereo going down or off when she spotted them outside the door. Each time they came in, one of the burly brainless types brought up the rear, locking the door behind him once he verified they were the only customers. 

Kate stayed behind the bar unless she was waved over. She waited and observed, keeping her hands busy polishing glasses and wiping down bottles and her back to the men, so she could maintain a demeanor of unconcerned and oblivious subservience. She was anything but. He was worried that she would end up getting into trouble someday with these criminals. 

 

When he heard the coffee pot start another cycle, filling the pot before the glass had even cooled from the previous batch this morning, he got out of bed to get ready for the day.

 

Chakotay emerged from the bathroom and stowed his kit under the cot and went to the bar. Kate was reading the paper and sipping her coffee. She already had another mug prepared, just how he liked it, waiting on the bar one chair over. 

“Good morning, Kate.”

“Morning, Chakotay.” She looked up at him, smiling. “Plans today?”

He took his seat and stirred his coffee, swirling the touch of cream into a whirlpool.

“Nothing today. But it’s too beautiful to be inside.” He reached for a napkin to put under his dirty spoon.

“Oh?” She folded the paper over to make the crossword a more manageable size and dug a pencil from beside the register. “There’s a lovely park along the beach about a mile west of here, if you haven’t been.”

“Would you come with me?” He noticed she almost choked on her coffee.

“Come with you?” Her head tilted questioningly, an eyebrow arching.

“Yeah. We could make a day of it. Good friends, some good food, and a day away from everything else.” He suggested.

“I don’t know. There’s always so much to do around here, and we only have one day a week to get it done.” She looked back down to the crossword, penciling in the answer for four-down in all capital letters. S-H-I-P

“It won’t hurt for you to take some time to yourself, and I’d like to have the company.” He gathered the spoon and napkin into his cup, moving to get up.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” She kept her eyes on the puzzle. One-across, P-R-E-S-S.

“You wouldn’t be. Honestly, you’re the only friend I have around here, and I wouldn’t mind spending some time with you away from the pub. Please?” He watched her carefully wedge the puzzle under the register and put the pencil back.

“Sure. Only if we get ice cream though.” She gathered their cups and put them in back.

“Deal.” He waited for her to grab her keys and wallet, then followed her out.

 

So, they picked their way along the sidewalks, past the businesses opening for the day and the scrunched together apartments, until, flowing a decline, they met the water on one side of a grassy park. 

The park had been more north than west, but it was a pleasant walk and well worth the infusion of nature. 

A sign proclaimed, “Bay Front Park” proudly, and a trail ran along the water, so they could wander close to the water’s edge. 

Kate told Chakotay about the different neighborhoods in the area, mostly divided by ethnic lines. She confided that she’d never lived outside of Dogpatch, and had only visited as far as Northern California, but she hoped to travel someday. Maybe she’d go east and see what the other coast had for her, or go north and explore the Pacific Northwest. Maybe   
Seattle would offer her the opportunities she craved. For now, though, she insisted, her place was right here, preserving Voyager’s Pub in the name of her late grandfather and parents.

Chakotay expressed his desire to find a good place to settle down more permanently, though he wasn’t sure about San Francisco. When he’d told her that, her face darkened a little. He assured her that he loved it where they were, but he wanted somewhere less crowded. He adored the water though, so he’d considered hitching his way up the coast until he found something that was the right fit. He needed to get on his feet first, so he wouldn’t be going anywhere soon, he promised.

The afternoon yielded a lazy trip to a small stand for ice cream, and a trek to the south along the trail until they had to turn up to the pub. 

When they got back, they had another pot of coffee between them, and he suggested they do time away more frequently. The pub would be fine if she took a day out sometimes, even just every other week. Kate begrudgingly admitted that she’d been happier in the last half day than she’d been in a while. 

“You might be on to something, you know.” She looked thoughtful. “Honestly, my father and grandfather died only a couple of months ago, and everything was such a whirlwind, and with Quincy…I guess I’ve sort of forgotten what it’s like to just be _Kathryn_.”

“Why don’t you go out tonight? Do you have any girlfriends who might want some drinks or dinner? I can hold down the fort.” He flashed his dimples in a wide smile.

“Not on this short of notice, but maybe I’ll set something up for next week.” She’d finally conceded that she could take a few hours for herself now that she had someone around to help out.

“For tonight, what about something more mellow. Maybe we could go see a movie? It’s a guilty pleasure of mine, but I imagine it’s been a long time since we’ve both had the chance. What do you say?” Her eyes glimmered hopefully.

“I could do a movie.” Another smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much longer chapter for you today, since yesterday's was kind of a short intermission chapter. I'm having so much fun writing this one! 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> The subject of organized crime and the particular neighborhood in 20th century SF is quite fascinating. If you haven't noticed, I try to keep everything as well-researched as possible then give it a nice twist to the left. :)

The floor was cold beneath him, leeching his energy. 

Chakotay opened his eyes, looking up to the ceiling, an off-white swatch and blinding in the morning sunlight. 

Pounding continued pittering a rhythm in his brain and shaking his bones. 

He’d just sleep a little longer.

If only that pounding would give him some peace. 

He slept anyways.

 

Owen continued banging on the pub’s door with his meaty fist. 

“Maybe she just decided to make a late day of it. You should be happy. Kate never takes time off, and I’m sure our arteries could use a change of pace,” Tom offered hopefully, using a hand to block light as he leaned to peer into the window.

Owen, bent down to look closer at the door handle. “I think something’s wrong.”

“Look, the door is messed up. There might have been a break in.” The older man thumbed the crack in the door frame near the deadbolts. From his experience, a crowbar, skillfully placed could leave a door relatively intact after a break in. And a pub like Voyager’s was not one a petty criminal would risk robbing if one valued his life, even these days. 

The only time suspicious activity happened, it was never something small, even though the pub’s image was coming around.

“I think we need to call this in.” Owen wedged his leg against the door and hit it heavily with his shoulder, the crack in the frame splitting with a sharp thwap. “Tom, go make the comm, I’m going to see inside.”

Tom walked swiftly next door, disappearing behind the check-out to the private office. Owen, on the other hand, proceeded into the dark, quiet pub, reaching for the concealed service weapon at the right of his waistband. 

Nothing looked out of place. The meticulous cleanliness of the Janeways was often refreshing when one walked in from the dank of the mostly industrial area.

Owen slid towards the switch panel on the near wall, flipping on the lights.

“Katie?” He called out to her as he waded behind the bar to clear the kitchen. 

Tom crept through the door, making eye contact with his partner as they moved to converge on the back office.

“Katie, are you here, dear?” Owen directed to the half-open door.

Nudging the door with his foot, Tom swept the office with his own weapon, flipping the light on to further check for intruders.

They retraced their steps to the base of the back stairs, listening closely to determine if anybody was upstairs. 

A cough broke the silence, quickly followed by a strangled groan. Both men cautiously went upstairs, worried when they noted the door was wide open. They exchanged grimaces. 

Kate never left the door open or unlocked, even when she had guests. 

 

It was a habit of every inhabitant of the upstairs apartment, borne through necessity as the pub had a somewhat disreputable clientele on a regular basis: the entire reason the SFPD kept Tom and Owen next door. 

Owen was a long-time placement by the department, having spent much of his thirty-five-year career under cover next to the pub, keeping an eye on the comings and goings of the Irish. 

He’d been present during the height of the Liam’s power in the Bay Area. Edward was wary of the life once he came of age, and begged off, signaling the downfall of the current era. 

Liam’s only other child, Quincy’s father, had died with his wife as well as Kathryn’s mother in a boating accident shortly after Kathryn was born. It was the series of events spanning the years leading to these deaths that had led to his placement as the kindly owner of the small, dingy store next door. His first partner had only lasted in deep cover for a matter of months, as did the second, leading to a conversation with his neighbor one day as Liam commented on the lack of dependability and loyalty in the current youth population. 

He’d even been in the bar to celebrate with the whole clan when Edward and Gretchen had gotten married, when they discovered they were pregnant, and when Gretchen’s water broke before Kathryn’s birth. He’d become a well-worn fixture in the neighborhood, quietly relaying information on the activities of the Janeways, waiting for Liam to slip up. His third partner had stayed with the “company” for over two decades before retiring, leading to the appointment of the green-tinged Tom Paris only a couple years ago.

Quincy was about ten years old and ended up in the care of his grandfather alongside Katie, as her father was away in the service and prone to avoiding his home now that it was saturated with grief. 

The sudden increase in close familial responsibility changed Liam gradually, but the life had already started to influence Q, making him despicable in churlish ways and endeared him, unconsciously because he was so similar, to Liam.

In all honesty, Owen was glad for the leveling-out of the power distribution. As a life-long resident of the neighborhood as well, he hoped to see it turn around as they neared the millennium. The biggest thing holding them back was the racket Liam and his men ran throughout the east side, only limited by the Italians and their increasing presence to the north. 

As Liam Janeway grew older, slipping past middle-age, his operations mellowed, but his territory remained true and well-enforced, the little pub at the center of his attentions.   
Owen figured the lack of an heir to the empire slowly chipped away at the man. He became the consummate grandfather to his grandchildren, balancing his darkness with the acceptance of his eventual downfall, one he determined to take with grace. Though this change did little to divert Q’s dangerous path, it kept Kathryn out of the criminal element and led to a well-adjusted, intelligent woman. He figured that Liam only saw the best in both children, admiring the innocence he saw in his little love and the “work ethic” in his unintentional protégé. It made him blind though, to Kate’s suspicions. She was an observant little mite, and Owen was sure she’d eventually be the one who ended the criminal legacy.

Liam never slipped up. So here Owen remained, approaching retirement and hoping that between the two grandchildren, he could neatly knot up his case and go out on a high note. The detectives couldn’t prove it, but Edward and Owen’s unfortunate demise in the car wreck seemed too neat of an end. It’d prompted him to go back into high alert. Something was coming, and it was coming soon. A new division of the Irish was boiling and rising to replace the hole left by Liam and associates, who’d dispersed, some reforming to ride the wake of the resonant power left behind. Owen didn’t know why, but the pub itself seemed to be an important asset of power in the neighborhood and if it was perceived as up-for-grabs, someone would eventually make a move. Perhaps the building was simply a symbol in Dogpatch, an indisputable mantle to be worn and used by the seediest of elements, but left to the hands of hope instead, which only angered those scrabbling to fill the void.

He’d cringed when Q disappeared, but the behavior wasn’t unusual for him. Tom was successfully coordinating the surveillance on the man, noting when he checked in, that Q was vacationing in international waters on a friend’s boat, enjoying paid company and designer drugs while he watched the empire burn with no regard for the fallout squarely crashing into Kathryn as she struggled to keep her business afloat among the hungry sharks. 

She maintained ideals only a little girl might develop through a love for her grandfather, who remained unblemished in her eyes, always the man who cuddled her on his knee and read to her as he pulled the blankets up to her chin, then plodded down stairs in the late evening. He was the one who gave her candy when she came home from school, walked by her uncle Sully or Mr. Bennett safely home each afternoon. 

Only Quincy had the jaded outlook of his grandfather- seeing the hushed men in suits everywhere he went. He steamed, jealous of his cousin’s place in Liam’s heart. He saw the backroom dealings and figures escorted into the freezer, coming out hours later, bloodied and desperate. Little Kathryn had been too young to remember and later sheltered from the violence, and Q’d made a business of hating her for it.

 

As Owen crept into the apartment, he thought about how this might be it. This might be what they’d been anticipating, but he didn’t want Katie involved. He prayed she hadn’t been home. She was almost like a daughter to him, but she couldn’t help her involvement. He’d grown attached, though he knew he shouldn’t. One couldn’t have a post like this and remain completely indifferent to the people involved.

Tom went forward, and Owen veered to the side, past the kitchen and to the bathroom, noting with a quick glance that everything was still in its place.

“Owen, get in here!” Tom called to him from around the corner in the living room.

When he got around the bend to the living room part of the studio, he found Tom kneeling beside the new barman, Chakotay, on the ground. 

The big man was in a drying pool of blood, barely conscious, but mumbling. 

Owen went to the kitchen to call for medical assistance. His next call went to his chief so he could report directly on the incident.

“Kathryn Janeway isn’t here, but her help is, and he’s worse for wear. I can’t prove that it was them, but it’s a distinct enough possibility that we should act. I believe this is what we anticipated. If we’re gonna prevent any more casualties, we need to move fast though.”

Owen and Tom’s superior agreed and gave the men carte blanche to appropriate resources to break the case.

“Can he talk?” The voice inquired over the line.

Owen pulled the phone cord taut as he backed out of the kitchen to check on his partner and the victim.

“He’s rough, but he’s more coherent every minute.” Owen looked to Tom and the younger man nodded in agreement with the prognosis. 

Tom pressed one of the towels he found to the entry and exit wounds in the upper arm of his charge. Chakotay was pretty lucky- he could have taken a much worse hit in such close quarters. He’d barely have a scar from this, but he’d be damned sore for a while.

Owen saw the reflection of red and blue lights on the wall of the apartment as the ambulance silently pulled up to park in front of the bar. He peeked out the window to see a crowd already gathering to watch the show and gossip. Going down stairs, he re-holstered his weapon, re-masking his identity and talked with the paramedics as a concerned neighbor who’d heard a noise and went in to check on the occupants, finding a grizzly, unprovoked scene. No, he didn’t know of anyone who’d wish harm on the employees of the pub, but his “assistant” would like to go with them to make sure the injured man had a familiar face with him at the hospital.

The detectives didn’t want to reveal their hand quite yet, so they played dumb for now. Tom went with Chakotay to the hospital so he could gather information and Owen went back to his shop, closing the doors for the day because he was “shaken by the tragedy next door” when really, he sequestered himself in the office where he could call in a couple favors and send out feelers for Kathryn to see how badly she was involved. 

Unfortunately, he knew she was in danger, but not quite how much. Her bed on the other end of the open living area had been mussed and her keys and wallet left in the open on the kitchen counter by the phone. She hadn’t left willingly, but he couldn’t imagine why she would have been a target at this point any more than Chakotay had been. Quincy was the one with all the control.

That was the case, he thought, until one of the detectives he’d appointed to the immediate issue called him an hour later to tell him that they’d missed it, but the pub had quietly been moved into Kathryn’s name. The paperwork hadn’t been properly filed with the city until three days prior, so she probably didn’t even know the building was hers. That damned cousin of hers had all but painted a target on her back to save his own skin.

The New Irish had taken Liam Janeway’s granddaughter so they could seize control of his assets in the swiftest way possible. He feared even more for the girl now, as her stubborn side could get her killed. If she proved too much trouble giving them what they wanted, they would take it from her without a hesitation, even though Cardie and the others who’d associated with Liam had close ties to the family, their loyalties only lay with their own interests now that the patriarchy was broken.


	6. Chapter 6

Kate bade Chakotay goodbye, muffled as it was by the pencil pinched between her teeth as she crouched to look at the stock on the bottom shelf of the freezer. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come along today?” He stood in the doorway of the kitchen as she scribbled one more thing on the list.

“Really, Chakotay, I can’t today. Not if I’m going out tonight.” Kate moved to rise.

“It won’t be the same…” Chakotay offered his hand to help her stand.

“It was your idea that I go out tonight, mister. Don’t get all sullen on me. Somebody’s got to do some work around here today.” She gripped his arm and pulled herself up, stumbling slightly with the inertia and bumping against him. 

He reached out to steady her by the shoulders, just as she raised her palm to his chest to gain her balance.

“Sorry,” she breathed, pulling away after a long moment of hesitation. 

“I’ll be back in a couple hours.” He backed away then turned at the counter. “Last chance?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own. You need some time to yourself. Enjoy it! Oh, and the money is by the register.” She rewarded him with a beaming smile as she reminded him, her eyes following him as he exited the pub.

oOoOo

Briefly she looked up from balancing the books, when he came back in the early afternoon, a few bags in his arms. She took a sip of her coffee and closed the ledger.

Kate went to him to take some of the items.

She was lucky that he’d agreed to stop by the market for some fresh food on his way back from his jaunt. Honestly, she hadn’t expected him back so early.

“Honey, I’m home!” He joked as he set the grocery parcels on the end of the bar.

Immediately, she started peeking into the sea of brown paper, sorting the items.

“Thank you for picking this up…” She looked up from digging to get the last lime to see Chakotay reach behind him to loose a handful of seasonal flowers swathed in colorful tissue, from his waistband.

“I thought I’d bring you something to cheer up your apartment. There were those vases in the pantry, and I figured they ought to get some use.” He smiled, wide and stellar. 

Pushing the flowers into her outstretched hands, he wasn’t prepared for her arms wrapping around him in a friendly hug.

“They’re perfect, Chakotay. Beautiful.” Her words were muffled until she pulled away, her head tilting down to examine the flora more closely. “Let me go get these in water, then  
I’ll be back down to get all this put away.”

He watched her go to the back and ascend the stairs, holding the flowers to her, her nose dipping every few steps to smell the blooms.

In the weeks since he’d started working at the pub, Kate had opened up around him. She was much more complex and surprising than he could have predicted in those first days. 

Sure, when she’d popped out of the door and stood above him that first day, he’d noticed she was attractive and quite…focused? Purposeful? She wore an armor, a thick shell on her skin every day, taking in every detail around her and grasping to control what she could. She knew the neighborhood down to the holes in the sidewalk. She knew the drink  
order of every man and woman who walked in, even if they only visited once a year. She rippled with bridled potential, bubbling under the smooth, pale surface. But, she never let  
anyone see what she was fully capable of or what she knew. 

She tried, but she couldn’t reign her true self in all of the time, and it slipped occasionally, a chink in her armor here, a tiny leak there. 

That smile was a glorious crack, as her eyes closed, her hand on the banister guiding her up the familiar steps. That wasn’t a forced smile or a mask, it was an involuntary reaction that she didn’t bother to cover. He was the new and unpredictable. She didn’t know everything about him yet and couldn’t anticipate everything. It drove her to distraction during moments like these and she seemed to be pleased with it.

oOoOo

Chakotay tried to keep his eyes anywhere but on the person sitting across from him at the table as he rolled silverware and Kate polished the water spots from her tray of shot glasses.

She’d come down the stairs carefully, the hard soles of her heels thumping on the wood of the stairs with each step. He hadn’t known what to expect. His only good point of reference for what a girl wore out was his ex, and she wasn’t necessarily the most elegant or upstanding. And he’d never seen Kate out of her black slacks and dark colored shirts.  
Once or twice she’d worn jeans to do a major cleaning or repair project, and sometimes he caught her in soft-clothed pajamas if he tumbled out of his room in the morning before she went back upstairs. 

But never a skirt.

And never more than the most modest amount of skin.

He had begun to cherish their easy friendship and yes, they flirted, but he’d never seen her as more than that. Not seriously. He might have to reconsider. 

First, he saw her feet, delicate and white, encased in matt black heels, strappy but somewhat more practical that most he saw. Allowing his gaze to linger, his admiration still discrete, he followed the line of the ankles up the curve of her legs, slender and flawless. 

She wore a simple pleated navy-colored skirt with a couple layers of flowy material reaching just below her knees. A billowy blouse tapered from a draped neckline, modest but just this side of suggestive, to a narrow waist where a belt loosely grasped along the seam at her hips. Ah. It was a dress. He caught the glimmer of a barrette in her hair, pulling it  
behind her ears. 

Her makeup was a smidge bolder too, the apricot of her lips and the bronzed coloring on her eyes and cheeks emphasizing the curve of her features. She was softly feminine and less angular and shadowed. 

Tonight, she wasn’t just his boss or his friend. She was a woman.

He quickly went behind the bar to retrieve the contained of napkins and cutlery, turning his back to her to take it back to a booth by the window. 

Quietly, she ducked back to the kitchen to get a rack of clean glasses from Sunday night and a clean towel.

Setting her items down, she turned once for Chakotay, who looked on with more control.

“What do you think?” She asked him hopefully, the concept of her dress almost as unfamiliar to her as it was to him these days.

“You clean up pretty well, Kate. It suits you.” He looked back down to his task, the knives and forks jangling as he grabbed them and situated them on a napkin, deftly rolling them up.

She began polishing, concentrating in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Thanks again for everything today… getting everything finished so I can go out.”

“You can even stay out late. You shouldn’t have anything to do in the morning. You could have a sleep in.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

A rapid rapping on the door grabbed their attention. Two women about Kate’s age waved at them through the glass.

Kate jumped up from the booth, leaving the towel on top of the tray, and unlocked the door, letting the women in.

One embraced Kate affectionately. The woman stood as tall as Kate, her chestnut brown hair was streaked with the sun and her tan skirt was only a shade darker than her brown  
skin. The other woman followed with an equally loving hug.

“It’s so good to see you! It’s been ages, Kate!” The second woman said, her hazel eyes flitting to Chakotay before returning to her friends. Her coloring was similar to Kate’s but  
she was much more solidly built. Perhaps she was from another of the Irish families in the neighborhood.

“It has. I’m excited for tonight though!” Kate pulled away from the other women and led them to the table.

“Bella, Liz, this is Chakotay. Chakotay, this is Bella and Liz.” After Kate introduced the women, she explained that she’d gone to high school with them and kept in touch quite easily as their husband frequented the pub and they regularly visited for dinner every couple weeks. 

Initially, they’d been surprised to get calls from Kate, but they were quickly excited at the prospect of getting together for girls’ night, even if it wasn’t going to be often. They’d known about the Janeway men and the sadness and stress the last few months that had secluded Kate from her normal social circles, but they’d wanted to give her time to herself.  
They knew she’d call when she was ready, and now they were here!

Chakotay pushed them all out the door, locking it behind them after he made sure Kate had her keys and her wallet in case she needed to get a cab or something.

As the two women all but dragged Kate down the walk towards the waterfront and to the south, Kate looked back at him, a grin in her eyes. She turned back towards her friends, joining the excited conversation, while she ran fingers through her hair to keep it from tangling in the breeze.

He planned to finish the last of the stuff Kate usually busied herself with in the morning, then he’d make it an early night, perhaps lulling himself to sleep with another Canto of one of Kate’s volumes of Dante.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today, because I'm a writing machine when I get a day off of work! Sorry for mistakes, I try to catch them, but some still slip past my re-reads. 
> 
> Almost done! 
> 
> Hope it's been an exciting journey so far!

She tried to breathe deeply through her nose again, mostly unsuccessfully. She was only rewarded with a coughing fit when blood ran down the back of her throat as a clot moved but continued to block her nasal passages. Definitely broken. Since her mouth was covered, the coughing projected another rush of blood through her nose, but it loosened the blockage and she could finally take more than inadequate, panting breaths of the stinging air.

During their second visit, they’d laid into her again, still looking for a deed she had no information on. She didn’t understand their logic. Why would she know where it is? She hadn’t even known she was the owner of the pub. She didn’t know what they wanted with the building, but at this point, she figured it went beyond that. The outlook wasn’t good for her.

When they came to her the last time, she’d tried to offer whatever they wanted. They could have the bar. She’d sign whatever they wanted. Hell, they could go over there right now and have anything if only they would stop this and let her go. Eventually, they’d tried a different approach. Instead of forcing her body to yield to the blows of blunt instruments and sharp ones alike, they went for what they’d termed a more exquisite method of persuasion, focusing on the sensitive digits of her hands and feet. 

#1 hadn’t needed to brace her from behind anymore, as each time they furthered their explorations into her pain centers, she’d become paralyzed, body stiff and shivering, broken howls tearing through her throat as a thin instrument insinuated itself between nail beds and the nails, slowly prying until blood dripped from her fingertips into grotesque splatters on the dirty floor. They’d only finished with her left hand and two fingers on the right before they got bored. It didn’t stop them from stomping her feet or twisting her other fingers until she cried out.

When Rom stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves, she really started to worry. His men fell back to flank him, making no aggressive moves as their boss knelt next to her, lifting her chin so he could consider her hazy eyes.

“You really don’t know, mo éan beag, do you?” He asked softly, staring at her as her breathing slowed and she focused on him.

“Whatever you want, you can have it. Whatever you need me to do. Please just let me go.” She begged.

“Oh, I know. But you would have made it so much easier if you could give us what we wanted. Unfortunately, that ship has sailed.”

She looked confused and tried to pull her head away from him when his voice dipped dangerously again.

“What?” She flinched as his hand clenched her jaw tighter.

“It’s an unfortunate side of my job, the collateral damage. You can’t help us, we know that now, but you have the power to hurt us.” He dropped his hand and stood, backing away from his charge. 

“Gentlemen, I think I’ll go for a walk tonight, say around nine? I think we need some fresh air.” 

The two goons nodded their ascent.

Kate didn’t understand why he would need to tell them about a walk. Did men like Rom even take casual strolls through parks or along the Bay?

Only #2 stayed in the cell with her, the other leaving behind Rom to get whatever was necessary for this walk.

 

It was when his partner returned that she fully understood what a “walk” really entailed.

The first lackey set down a duffle full of items nearby then secured the door, locking it with the heavy ring of keys and eyeing her warily, as if doubt was seeping into him about what he’d been doing.

It wasn’t doubt. It was pity, she realized, as they released both of her legs, and pinned them together, taping them again, the thick, unforgiving material tightly spiraling from her ankles to knees. 

Now she found herself following them warily with her eyes as she gripped the arms of the chair, white knuckled, her hands sliding in her blood, resisting the men as they cut her arms loose and tried to press them together to likewise restrain them. 

Her resistance earned her a cuff to the side of her head, making glittering apparitions float across her vision for a moment.

They left her torso belted to the chair, but they made a mistake when they reached for her head to gag her again.

She’d lashed out, biting and spitting, until #1 socked her then held her head, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh behind her ears as her nose gushed blood. #2 ran a rough cloth across her face to clear the blood just long enough to get the tape back over her mouth, then he covered her eyes.

Before they left, they’d pulled a course burlap hood over her head. She was sure she would have been able to breath better if the material hadn’t dried to her face the thick weave adhering to the tacky blood trails.

oOoOo

After a long stretch of still silence, the door to her prison swung open again. 

Someone approached and leaned close, mouth close to her ear.

“I wish I could have done more for you, Kathryn.” It was Cardie. “It really is a shame, sweetheart, we could have worked well together.”

His hands smoothed along her sides, taking their time as he leaned into her, his arms snaking behind her to release the last belt holding her in the chair.

She felt him stand and turn away from her, quite secure in her docile state. As much as she wanted to jump up and blindly barrel into him and try to escape (she was positive she hadn’t heard the door close again), she wasn’t sure she physically could anymore. Even if she could, she couldn’t see, couldn’t run, could barely breathe. She didn’t even know how many people stood nearby.

“I suppose this is goodbye.” Cardie sighed and walked away, having directed the comment over his shoulder to Kate.

When his expensive shoes were going up the stairs, arms grabbed for her, lifting her body from the chair. She moaned as her legs and arms straightened, the muscles straining to unclench after hours of punishment. The seat of her pants felt exceptionally cool, and her skin warmed in embarrassment when she realized her pants were damp. She must have wet herself at some point during her interrogations or when she was unconscious. She didn’t know which, as her memory was spotty and any nerves that weren’t screaming fiery deaths were numb and tingling unpleasantly. The patch of cold simply entered her awareness as another assault on her overwhelmed senses.

She reasoned that it couldn’t be avoided. She’d been here for a long time, a day, maybe two. She wasn’t sure.

Kate ended up flung over a shoulder, much as she’d been when she was brought in. 

She realized that being re-bound and taken from the chair meant they were moving her somewhere else. 

_Of course_ she berated herself. If her head wasn’t so ….so...she would have figured that out earlier… so jumbled.

Maybe they were taking her wherever they had Q. Maybe he’d been kidnapped rather than run away this time, or they’d found him and kidnapped him from wherever he’d gone and they were going to use her to persuade him to give up the information he surely had about the building or the deed. It had been a long time though.

They dropped her into the trunk of a car again, covering her with a heavy blanket this time and wedging a heavy bag near her feet.

When the lid to the trunk closed, she shifted her painful feet to push at the bag and see if anything in it might help her get free of the duct tape.

It felt like sand? And rocks? And metal?

She pushed harder and a few tiny grains that remained loose above the drawstring trickled in between her toes uselessly.

 

They didn’t drive nearly as far before stopping again.

The air here was just as cool and wet, but it was so quiet, she could hear the water this time. They’d left Cardie’s part of the industrial district, surely, or gone back closer to home.

Cold hands slid around her waist and under her shirt, looping a thick, heavy chain above her hips and securing it tightly.

Kate started to panic, her heart beating painfully and her breath coming in panicked bursts, making her light-headed.

This time, when she was lifted, the metal around her midsection pulled taut, weighted heavily against her kidneys, cutting into the skin of her sides more acutely the higher she was lifted. The man handling her grunted at the increased weight, but still hefted his burden without complaint.

It was a different person, she observed. He smelled of too much aftershave, and the cloth of the suit rubbing against her skin was smooth and soft. Cardie’s goons didn’t dress in suits, nor did they have a concept of hygiene. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’ll be done before you know it.” Rom’s voice rumbled against her through his back as he spoke his platitudes.

His footfalls changed as he moved from the gravel and cement onto a wood surface, measuring his steps carefully on the dilapidated dock.

“Do you need time to pray?” He asked as an afterthought.

Even if she could move her stiff neck to indicate her answer, she wasn’t sure it would matter. He probably just asked to make himself feel just that much better about his job. A good Catholic man he was; he would give her the benefit of the doubt and let her make peace with God before he committed her murder!

He stopped and turned, going up a ramp.

Were they going to take her out and dump her in the middle of the Bay, or just leave her here?

 

“Freeze!” a shout pierced the air and Rom twitched, took two more steps, then turned to face the voice.

“San Francisco Police Department! Roman Murphy, stop where you are!” Footsteps…dozens of boots slapped against the gravel. The heat of lights prickled against the soles of her feet now.

“Put her down and show us your hands.” The same voice, closer, on the dock. 

“Slowly.” The cop growled.

“With pleasure.” Rom purred. 

He twisted and dropped her.

Kate didn’t feel the dock.

Shouting.

Gun shots? Screaming.

She breathed in as deeply as she could and pulled at her restraints.

Like a sliver, the weighted bag then her feet cut into the chilly water, pulling her into the salty, dark pier.

The water stabbed at her exposed skin, goading her to gasp, but she resisted on the small hope that someone might yet be able to help her.

As she sank, the cold gripped her, quickly chilling any heat she still had in her.

It wrapped her in the deadest silence she’d ever experienced.

As a child, she’d slid down in the tub, submerging her ears and muting the world. This was a different, stifling quiet.

Small bubbles escaped her nose, water tried to fight its way in, tickling, numbing.

Down she went.

How deep was it here?

Her chest started to heave, contracting as her lungs screamed for air.

She let her hands float up to her face and pinched at her nose, determined to hold out as long as she could.

Kate’s mouth fought to open under the tape. In the swirl of adrenaline and oxygen deprivation, her fingers loosened and she curled down around the chain pulling her down by her waist. 

More bubbles, then a flood of an exhale and an involuntary gasp.

But she couldn’t find air, only the dank water of the Bay, silt sliding down her throat.


	8. Chapter 8

Owen knew it was a distinct possibility that Kate was already dead, but they had only gotten their information half an hour ago, and they’d arrived and gotten in position only mere minutes before the black sedan pulled up to the docks. 

His hope was renewed when he saw her squirming in the large man’s hold as he put her over his shoulder. 

The police slithered silently from the shadows, dispatching the two men who’d accompanied the mobster and securing them.

Everything would move quickly now. 

The man turned up the dock where it branched out. No boats were tied to this part of the structure. 

The law enforcement had as much intent as they were going to without allowing him to carry out his plan and harm his charge…they shouted for the criminal to stop, and he did, measuredly, deviously, squinting as lights glared from numerous sources beyond the dock.

It was only the moment before it happened that Owen knew Rom was going to finish his last task before they took him, hurling the bundle in his arms into the black depths of high tide. The fall was only fifteen or twenty feet, so he wasn’t as worried about her fall. What worried him was the water.

Owen watched Tom sprint for the nearest cruiser and have the officer pop the trunk to get the bolt cutters. He removed his jacket and everything in his pockets, then he ran for the shore closest to where Kate had been dropped. 

A few officers who’d been closer to the underside of the docks had already shed their gear and dove into the water before the ripples from her body had settled. A pair of officers arrested the compliant Rom, pushing him towards a car, disgust on their faces. He only smiled and shrugged as he was walked past Owen.

Another officer, Ayala, he remembered, called over the radio for an ambulance, and updated dispatch on the situation. 

 

Tom breathed deep and opened his eyes against the sting of the salty water. Someone on the surface flipped the breakers above, powering the lights for the pier, but they were still too dim as they warmed up to be of any more help. He saw the kick of booted feet ahead of him, or rather the disturbance of said appendages, and followed the officer towards Kate. As he caught up, he saw that the other officer had ahold of her by the chain at her belly, looking for a release. Two others were on either side of her, kicking against the pull of the weight to keep her from descending as much as possible. Under their arms, illuminating the murky clouds of the water, were flashlights wedged tightly, flickering as water seeped into the cases. 

He reached them just as one of the lights died out and he felt the officer adjust his arm to let the metal drop now that it was ruined. The man would be able to hold her easier if the instrument wasn’t there, and it was useless now anyways. Tom weaved one of his legs around one of Kate’s to anchor himself, then he pulled back and jammed the cutters into one of the links at her stomach, clamping the handles closed as hard as he could. 

The other light went out.

His lungs were beginning to protest the lack of air.

He pulled the handles halfway apart again, afraid to lose the chain if he opened them more. 

Another officer’s hands joined his own as he contracted the handles again, this time resulting in a sudden violent ascent of a foot or two as the weight released them.

All four men swam hard to the surface gripping Kate’s arms, desperate for air and anxious about the woman they hoped to save.

As they broke the surface, other men met them, dragging Kate to the shore swiftly as their colleagues gasped dizzily, reorienting themselves. 

The people on the shore worked in the glow of the headlights, Owen checking for a pulse at the neck, Ayala removing the hood and unceremoniously ripping the tape from Kate’s   
mouth and putting his head close to see if she was breathing. Kim cut at the tape around her wrists then moved to release her legs as Ayala moved her arms to her sides so she was flat on her back. One hand grasped her chin and tilted her head back. The other pinched the cartilage of her nose as he delivered four quick breaths into Kate’s flooded lungs.

Kim left to check on the ETA of the paramedics just as two more police cruisers arrived on the scene. 

Lights and sirens rounded a corner down the block as Tom crawled out of the water. 

Ayala had started chest compressions, alternately pumping at the unmoving chest and pausing while Owen took over breathing for Kate.

oOoOo

A breeze swept across Chakotay’s face, washing away the faint smell of alcohol and the lingering sterile, dry air. The scent of sunshine and sea air floated in with every wisp of the wind. It ruffled the shaggier hair that fell across his brow, annoying him at first, but as it ignited his sense of touch, he shuddered as the dull ache over most of his body pulsed in time with the more acute burning radiating from one side of his torso. 

He sniffed, groggily and forced his eyes open, searching the mellow white walls and wooden fixtures. Skimming the room, he noted the empty bed a few feet away, the neatly stowed medical equipment, and the chart at the foot of his bed.

Looking down, he wiggled his toes and fingers, testing the muscles throughout his body. His right hand was tethered to an intravenous line, but his left lay, fingers curled upwards around the small control in his palm.

He pushed the red button then relaxed his fingers.

Directly, a nurse greeted him cheerily, her hands gently performing routines she acted through hundreds of times a day.

“Mr. Mendez, do you know where you are?” She held his wrist, taking his pulse.

“A hospital.”

“What month is it?” She continued.

“July.” Chakotay deadpanned, impatient with the questions.

“Who’s the president?” She checked the drip line.

“Regan.” His response was immediate and sure.

“Great.” She wrote something in his chart.

“I suppose.”

She smiled at his response.

“I need to go make a call. A few people would like to talk to you.” She put the remote to the small television in his hand. “I’ll arrange for some food if you’re up to it?”

“That’d be good.”

_What’d happened?_

He closed his eyes, thinking back to what he could remember.

 

When Owen and Tom entered the room ten minutes later, they found Chakotay propped on pillows, the head of the bed elevated so he could comfortably eat the soup and pudding on his tray.

“It’s good to see you moving around.” Owen sat next to the bed while Tom remained standing.

“How long have I been here?” Chakotay pushed his tray away.

“We found you yesterday morning. It hasn’t been long.” Owen shifted awkwardly. “Do you remember anything about Monday night?”

Thinking for a moment, Chakotay caught snatches of men in black clothing in the bar.

“I woke up late. Maybe around two in the morning. I thought I heard something, maybe Kate getting in from her night out.”

_Oh, God, Kate._

“Do you remember anything else?” Tom encouraged Chakotay to continue digging into his memory.

“A couple of big guys, decked out in dark clothes. They sneaked upstairs after breaking in, I think. I heard a ruckus and realized that Kate wasn’t alone and they weren’t invited, so   
I went upstairs.” Chakotay adjusted the blanket, pulling it higher on his lap.

Tom and Owen nodded, acknowledging the statement.

“I remember fighting, but obviously I didn’t win.” Chakotay gestured to his lame shoulder. “Wait, where’s Kate?”

“Do you remember anything more specific about what the men looked like? Did they take anything or search the pub?”

“I don’t know. I’m a heavy sleeper these days. Is Kate okay?”

“Do you know of anyone that might have an issue with the pub? Any shady characters, or folks who might be disgruntled?”

“Why? And what’s with all the questions?” Chakotay was getting sick of providing answers when they wouldn’t give him any.

“Mr. Mendez, we’re with the SFPD, and we’re investigating what happened to you and the recent arson case involving the pub.”

“A fire? Is everyone okay? Is that why you won’t tell me anything about Kate?” He panicked.

“No one was hurt in the fire, but the building is a loss. We found evidence that someone set the fire while we were at the pier, following a lead. They timed it perfectly.” Owen   
looked on, gauging Chakotay’s reaction. 

They’d been suspicious of his conveniently timed arrival at the pub, but the man didn’t seem to know about anything that was going on. Unfortunately, he was caught up in this,   
just like Kate, an unwilling participant, disposable to the criminal element.

After the cinders of the building had cooled, the arson investigators sifted through the rubble for clues, finding an obvious accelerant and interestingly, hidden in the wrecked baseboards, a number of broken ten-dollar counterfeit printing plates. The plates were likely part of a larger set, of which they suspected the New Irish had intended to take all along, but panicked when Rom and his men were arrested, tearing the pub apart and burning the evidence. Cardie, his men, and the others who operated in the shadows of Dogpatch were maintaining relative silence though, laying low while they felt out how much the PD knew.

“The pier? Wait, you’re cops? Why were you watching the Pub?” Chakotay had so many questions and they didn’t have a good track record.

“We’ll answer everything in time, but for now, we just need any information you have.”

All three men settled in for an extended conversation.


	9. Chapter 9

Eventually, Chakotay had gotten some of the answers to his questions. That had led him here, to her room.

She wasn’t in the ICU, but she wasn’t going to be running a marathon any time soon. 

His mind wandered back to the last time he’d seen her. The shoes by the door to her apartment. The flowers he’d bought her splayed across the hall floor, mingling with the shattered vase and the spreading pool of water. Her, like a cat, brawling dirty against the invaders in her living room.

“She’ll be fine.” Owen had insisted as he took Chakotay to Kate’s room early that evening.

“She’s been awake a few times since they got her here last night. A few minutes this morning, then longer after I visited you. She confirmed much of what you remembered.” He peeked in the door to see if it was okay to go in.

Kate was sleeping, her brows pulled tightly together, either with disturbing dreams or pain that slipped past the drip burrowing under her skin. Her breathing was even, her chest rising slowly as she slept, her lungs comforted by the flow of oxygen streaming in a constant press of air through the tubing across her nose and the wealth of breath allowed her by the open, dry room around her.

Skin pale and mottled, broken by angry black stitching here and there and abruptly stifled with thicker gauze and padding to cover the worst of it, she still dominated the presence in the room. 

She was nothing if not a fighter, something he’d known early on, and he suspected that Owen knew it too. Kate had fought her entire life- maybe not with her fists and teeth, but she fought to maintain a status quo of goodness. She was insistent about contributing to her community…to continue her father’s shunning of the “family business” in favor of the family business. Kathryn, Kate, Katie…she represented a light in an otherwise dark place that swallowed everyone up. If anything in that neighborhood had hope, that woman embodied it, for as tough as she looked, and as salty as she could be some days, her heart found the good in everyone and made sure they knew they were good, or they _could be_. 

That was, until her life had started to come down around her months ago, looking up as she found stability again through the familiarity of the pub and his support.

As Chakotay sat beside his friend’s bed, looking on after Owen left, he finally knew. Cardie, Rom, and men like them hated the light. They hated the incorruptible and the courageous. Those good qualities made their work dangerous and unprofitable. They built their empire on destruction and exploitation. She had no empire, but a following…others attracted to what _could be_. An unwitting leader of a revolution in the neighborhood, if the news was right. Kate quietly lived her life, toiling to fulfill that primal directive of virtue and optimism, never knowing that as much as the bad men’s eyes burned into her pores as she served them…tolerated them, the rest of the community looked to her as everything they knew _could be_ if only they were strong enough to do the same. She knew, one day she’d have the strength to finally fight them.

And then yesterday had happened. Police and EMS at the pub, yellow tape blocking the door. Everyone had worried, imagining that the pub had been robbed by hoodlums and the business destroyed. _And what of the Janeway girl?_ They’d whisper. _Who was inside? Was it that boy she’s had working for her?_

The little old lady that came at 1pm every day for orange juice and exactly one and a half bread rolls had apparently fought with one of the officers, insisting that the young man move out of her way because this establishment had never been closed on a Tuesday and she needed to get her snack and give Katie her hug. The woman, sad when he told her Katie wasn’t there, waited on a bench across the street for an hour, watching until the people all cleared away before Owen took her home.

Her kidnapping had never been broadcast, as the situation was very sensitive. But, once the arsonist had played his hand, brightening the late-night sky with a pyre, fitting of the coming firestorm, the machinists, the seamstresses, the writers, the fishermen, the housewives, the retired teachers, the vendors…they all looked at the sparkle of the ash in the sky and their souls were ignited as they came running out in their bed clothes, hands over their gasping lips as they clung to their loved ones. They shed tears as they watched the firemen douse the blaze, trampling the potted flowers by the door, shouting as the windows blew out, and the roof bubbled, dropping tarry streams down the warped gutters.

Chakotay looked down, catching her eyes, just as she woke up, the muscles sure, but slow to respond.

When she smiled at the sight of him, he replied with one of his own, dimpled and broad.

“You’re okay.” She didn’t stop smiling. “They said you’d been shot.” A cough curled her body as she swallowed convulsively.

“They said you went swimming without a buddy.” He teased as he offered her sips of water.

“Never forgetting you at home again. Though flotation buddies do better without holes in their shoulders.” She turned her head and looked pointedly at the bulk of bandages under his gown and robe.

“You’re forgiven.” They looked each other over, silently cataloguing their thoughts.

He scooted his chair closer, and reached to smooth some of her hair behind her ears so it wouldn’t irritate her skin.

The bandaged fingers of her closest hand twitched and she turned her wrist to expose her palm in offering. His hand gently moved under hers, and when she pushed her palm to his, he understood. 

Even if they didn’t know what the next days were to bring, they were going to stick together. 

oOoOo

Chakotay didn’t have to wait long to see the damage left behind from those two hellish days. 

Kate still slept for most of the day the next day, waking when he visited, but quietly slipping off to a painless sleep if their conversation lulled for too long.

When he was in his room, not sleeping himself, he watched the news.

The day after the fire and pier, he’d seen the photos of the smoldering beams and bottles as the news anchor explained that the fire was under investigation, but the police were not releasing information.

By the first evening, the reports showed pictures of the business as it had been photographed years ago. The anchors told their viewers about some of the history of the Voyager’s 

Pub as a mainstay of the district. Then, as the screen moved to a live shot, the ruins of the structure looked almost magical as they glimmered in the twilight. Familiar figures moved with shovels and bins to salvage anything left and start to clean. Through the gaping windows he saw the gutted corpse of his home.

When he looked closer, he recognized faces of their neighbors and patrons.

Up in the corner of the screen, a photo of Kate, perhaps from her last year of high school, popped on as the anchor’s voice told the world about the pub owner.

In the years leading up to the untimely deaths of her father and grandfather, Kate had accomplished much in the neighborhood, reaching out to the community to help with everything from a small community garden one summer, to using the establishment as a fundraising site for one family when their son contracted a rare bacterium and they had to go to Los Angeles for treatment. She even helped some of the working men become functionally literate. No one had cared before.

The video changed to focus on other members of the community who were pitching in. Everyone had a story. Everyone had that moment that Katie had touched them. And now, they’d opened their eyes to the bigger picture she’d seen all along as she went through and lifted the neighborhood up piece by piece through even the smallest deeds. It was humbling. He just wished it hadn’t taken such a harrowing experience to get them all to this point.

He would be leaving the hospital in the morning, to where he wasn’t certain. Though, he was more worried about where Kate would go when she was released. He was in much better shape to fend for himself. Whenever he found himself in desperate circumstances, he muddled through somehow. This time would be different because he had someone else who was invested in the outcome and a community to support them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look into the history of Dogpatch, the neighborhood where this story takes place, in the late 80s and early 90s the neighborhood experienced a drastic positive change towards something that might result from a change in community like this one. :) It's a fascinating and fabulous period and location to weave into the story. I really hope you've enjoyed this story. I hope to have the epilogue up for you tomorrow or Tuesday.


	10. Epilogue

They’d gotten into a sort of comfortable predictability. 

Chakotay would usually wake up first and take his time getting ready, tiptoeing around the room, tidying the couch where he slept, and sharing an early coffee with Owen.

The older man had retired once the case against the New Irish started to wrap up. He stayed on as a consultant, but for all intents and purposes he was on the break he long deserved. Chakotay and Kathryn’s testimonies as well as evidence found in Rom’s car and at the site of the fire lead the police to Cardie. Rom and Cardie were brutal and efficient in their business, but didn’t have the decades of knowledge Liam Janeway had- they’d been just sloppy enough to get caught. Many of their associates had been implicated as soon as the counterfeit plates had printed into circulation. The broken plate that’d been left behind had quickly allowed them to comb for the bills and effectively pin the source.   
Owen’s retirement also allowed him to help Chakotay and Kathryn both, giving them a place to stay with him and his wife while they got back on their feet. It was duly necessary, as Owen was still worried about their safety while the dust settled. 

After a while, they’d hear the muffled creak from the floor above them, the slight steps of Kate as she found her way to the bathroom, donned a borrowed robe and joined them downstairs. She treaded carefully, the carpet soft beneath her bare feet, so she wouldn’t wake Julia. 

Owen would get her a coffee as she sat next to Chakotay and offered her hands to him, a tube in one, which he plucked and opened. He’d work the salve into the angry skin. This was much easier than it had been in the beginning, as he’d lifted bandages and cleaned mangled tissue, careful of the fragile, fractured bones, then re-wrapped the digits diligently.

He’d often look up to catch her watching him or watching his hands as he caressed her skin. It was the same look she gave him when he grabbed the book from her lap, begging her outside to enjoy the fall sun as he pulled her on short walks to get ice cream, sit and watch the water, or ride the bus in circles, making up stories for the passengers as they came and went, carrying about their afternoon.

The first two weeks after she was discharged from the hospital, Kate had rarely left the spare room. Initially, she’d continued to sleep, slowly regaining her natural healthy coloring and gaining strength. The broken bones in her hands and feet, the trauma in the long bones of her arms and ribs and the soft tissue damage slowed her down significantly. After ten days at the house, she was sick with cabin fever and frustrated with her dependency on him and Julia. 

Though she and the other woman became fast friends, Kate still balked on her perceived imposition in the house. She felt useless. She pleaded for something helpful to do. It was very difficult for everyone. Owen was sad to see the pain and anger in his pseudo-daughter. Julia was angry that someone could do such things to a girl like Kate when, as she got the younger woman to open up, she realized what a glowing spirit Kate had. Chakotay was pained as he watched the difficult recovery and the cloud of misery that seeped through her seams whenever her mind wandered to the big picture. Kate found it was easy not to think about everything if she just tried to live in the moment and think of life one minute at a time. Occasionally though, her denial failed her and everything seeped in- the kidnapping and subsequent near death, the destruction of the pub, and the deaths of everyone in her family, even Quincy whom they’d found dead on his boat in the ashes of another fire after getting a report of a fire on the water by a coastal resident.

For the last month, most of her days were spent sorting out the deed to the pub or other legal obligations including the estates of her father and grandfather now that Q was gone. It allowed her to stay at Owen’s home and recover, but she still had her hands in everything. When all of that was sorted, it had been time to go to court. Scars and all, she stood as a pillar of strength, testifying against the men she’d watched closely her whole life, giving the court an even broader picture of the darkness of Dogpatch than they’d ever imagined. Those days had been the worst. She often broke down, against her will, at the mercy of emotional and physical exhaustion when they got home. Sometimes as soon as they got to the car. She barely ate or left the house those weeks. 

Now, she got up and dressed every day, went for progressively longer walks, and buried her nose in paperwork necessary to fund and reopen the pub. She knew that Chakotay and Owen had taken most of the responsibility for the rebuilding and trusted their judgement as they ran everything by the insurance company and the lawyers. They’d even mentioned a small grant that Julia had wrangled from the local historical society to cover some of the restoration and eventual registration of Voyager’s as a historical site. 

Tom worked at the site during some of his spare hours on the weekend, mostly to catch up with Owen and Chakotay. He’d been instrumental in the plans they planned to reveal to Kate when they took her over today. 

oOoOo

Chakotay looked beside him to make sure Kate kept her eyes closed. Tom glanced over as well, just as excited as Chakotay about the surprise. Owen and Julia were in the front seats of the car, their younger friends squished together in the back. Unfortunately, Kate’s small stature relegated her to the dreaded center spot between the other two men, but she didn’t seem to mind the opportunity to lean into Chakotay. He held one of her hands loosely in his on his lap.

“Almost there.” Chakotay whispered into her ear as the car turned the corner onto Indiana.

He reigned in his nervous energy, resisting the urge to fidget. It would only make Kate nervous and push his knees into Julia’s seat. They’d spent so many weeks reviving the pub, from filing the insurance claims and Tom digging for the blueprints for the original building to working with the volunteers in the community to furnish much of the finished structure with small things that the insurance hadn’t covered. For such a relatively brief time, the people of the neighborhood had banded together to accomplish amazing things to get the business into top shape again, things that might have taken Kate years on her own.

Owen pulled up to the walk right in front of the new pub, the car coming to a halt gently. On the sidewalk, a small group of people, those who’d religiously come to help, even if it was for fifteen minutes a day, waited to greet Kate. She hadn’t been back to the site, both afraid of what she’d find, and still uncomfortable with the memories she now associated with her home. They’d listened intently when he updated them on her recovery and they were all ecstatic to see her now. He’d been working her up to this visit, but he hadn’t told her of the progress or the scope of the project. She only anticipated the skeleton of the pub and the beginnings of building.

Kate kept her eyes closed as Chakotay lead her out of the car. He put his hands on her shoulders to turn her towards the storefront.

“Can I open my eyes?” She asked hopefully as his fingers lingered on the soft cords of her light sweater.

“Yes.” His voice narrowly contained his delight.

Kate’s eyes popped open and she gasped, toppling back into Chakotay as her wide eyes surveyed the clean lines of the front, the freshly painted sign above the door, the wide plate glass expanses, and the new bench and flowers under the windows. 

He moved beside her, an arm around her shoulders as she silently surveyed the sight in front of her, then gazed up to him with watery eyes. 

When he released her, she stepped towards the small crowd as they beckoned her, with happy hugs and words of joy at her improving health, to go inside the pub.

As everyone followed her in, Chakotay stayed at her side, explaining what had happened.

“All the people here chipped in, many more as well. They started cleaning everything up as soon as they could. The electricians, carpenters, plumbers, they all prioritized their work here and put in a lot of volunteer hours to boot. Others made sure you had everything you’d need in the office, and Bella and Julia coordinated everything upstairs once it got together. There were a few changes to update things or make things more efficient, but Voyager’s is pretty much back to her old self.”

Kate still gaped, taking in the freshly stained wood and the warm colors in the upholstery as she ran her hands along tops of chairs and smooth walls. Eventually she made it   
behind the bar. All the glasses and spirits were in the proper place. The fixtures were an updated stainless, shiny and new. 

The kitchen shone with a new refrigerator, flat-top, burners, and utensils.

“The freezer was one of the few things that survived the initial fire, but it didn’t survive the demo after. It wouldn’t have been up to code. We situated it a bit better though, so we were able to make the space bigger.” He stayed back as she pulled the door open to look inside. “They’ll be here to deliver tomorrow so we can get situated and open Tuesday if you want.”

Carefully, she closed the heavy door and turned back to him.

“It’s amazing. It’s beautiful. I don’t know if I believe it’s real yet…The whole neighborhood helped?” The tears in her eyes flowed past her eyelashes, streaming down her cheeks.

“And Mr. Carey will be bringing over dinner for all of us tonight to help celebrate.” He rested his hand on her lower back to guide her out into the main room of the pub. 

Most of the people had seated themselves in small groups, talking animatedly. Owen and Julia approached Kate and Chakotay, embracing them both. 

“You should go check out the upstairs while I get the plates and napkins situated for lunch, hm?” Julia smiled slyly and urged the two towards the back staircase.

For the last couple of weeks, Julia had been subtly flexing her matchmaking muscles, much to the amusement of her husband. 

Chakotay didn’t mind the overtures, neither did Kate, it seemed. They already spent so much time closely together, and he had to admit they had an undeniable chemistry. It was never the right time to move to something more. Over the last months they’d become fast friends, but more, he found himself driven to make her life easier and push her to relax.   
In kind, her touches became more frequent and intimate, moving from his arm to his chest, until he found her hand lingering when it fell to his thigh, or her head resting on his shoulder when they went to the movies. She sighed contentedly in their quiet moments.

They’d continued to become closer since the fire, but they hadn’t broached the topic of a more intimate relationship. They hadn’t even discussed what to call what they had.   
Decorum while they were guests meant they hadn’t pursued anything, but maybe now…once they got the pub settled, they could explore things further. He smiled to himself. 

Once they reached the landing, Kate reached for the key hanging on a length of twine from the handle on the door. 

Turning the key, she revealed the brightly lit apartment. To her left, the kitchen had been restored close to the original specs, but instead of a wall separating it from the living room, there was an overhanging counter opposite the appliances that could be used as a pass through. 

Past the short hall the living room was light and open, the sun showing through the windows and warming the bare floors. The décor was spartan, but Bella wanted to give Kate as much opportunity as possible to make it her own. Here it wasn’t the absence of a wall that signaled change, but a new wall. Before, Kate’s room had been part of the studio, partitioned off, but not a wholly private space. The apartment hadn’t been meant for such, but rather as a meeting space or private party room in Liam’s hayday. Quincy had sold his grandfather’s house after the death, blowing the money or hiding it away in shady accounts, leaving Kate little choice but to move to the second floor of the pub, as the space was rarely used and she already slept in the office a few times a week. She’d never realized that her grandfather left her nothing tangible with his death because he didn’t want her to have a reason to stay until recently, for the very reason that they were forced to rebuild. He’d underestimated her devotion not only to her family, but the extended relationships she had with so many in the district.

There was more than enough room when they rebuilt to divide the apartment and give her a bedroom and closet while still leaving a substantial common area. 

“I don’t know what to say, Chakotay.” She shuffled away from him towards the new wall, cautiously opening the door.

Underneath the wide window, the expansive bed was covered with new, soft linens in cool pastels. A wide dresser sat along one wall, while a comfortable chair and a small bookshelf lined another. 

“This is too much.” She sat on the end of the bed, breathless.

“It’s just enough. Kate, everyone chipped in…you’ve helped a lot of people. They just wanted a chance to show you their gratitude.” He sat next to her. “You can stay here tonight if you’d like.”

“What about you?” She looked panicked.

“I can take over the spare room at Owen’s, he offered to let me stay on until I found a place.” 

“You don’t want to stay here anymore?” She bumped her shoulder into his, her voice taking on a playful tone.

“Do you want me to stay?” 

“Not downstairs.” Kate took the chance with her proposition. 

“With you? Up here?” Chakotay wanted to be sure.

“You don’t want to?” Her voice sounded a tad insecure.

“More than anything.” Surprising her, he turned fully towards her, his hands finding their way into her hair to turn her towards him.

He looked into her eyes, watching her expression as she realized what he was about to do and acquiesced, joyfully, meeting him halfway as they kissed.

Minutes later, the two jumped apart when they heard someone clear their throat from the doorway.

“Kids.” Owen smiled at their wide, startled eyes. “They have lunch ready downstairs. We’re just waiting for you.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Chakotay stood and offered Kate his hand, a practical and symbolic gesture now that everything was looking up.

Finally, they had a chance to explore what could be and they were going to face it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself...I had to put that JC in there at the end!


End file.
